


I Know My Place (But It Don't Know Me)

by OracleGlass



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bonding, Books, Friendship, Gen, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/OracleGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Natasha work out some issues by talking about Anne of Green Gables. Mostly. </p><p>The story can be read as the beginnings of a beautiful friendship, or, if you choose to go on to the following story (linked at the end notes) it turns into Bruce/Natasha. This story, however, is all about a developing friendly relationship.</p><p>Title taken from Band of Skulls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know My Place (But It Don't Know Me)

_There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting,_

He knows. Oh, he knows, because it’s the usual thing. Tony pokes and pushes and it’s all okay, because he’s so blatant about it that it’s funny, and Tony is remarkably good about not doing it when it would really be taken amiss. Thor enjoys a good punch-up, and the whole godly powers thing means he can at least step up to the plate so there’s no looming threat; Steve’s sort of casually assimilated into the whole super soldier thing, and takes his relative strengths as a given. He knows he can punch a piano through a highrise, and thus doesn’t think about it much. Clint might have cause to worry, especially since his coping mechanism of being at a distance doesn’t exactly work against a teammate, but perhaps he’s got bigger things to worry about these days. Bruce suspects there may be nightmares, but it’s not his place to ask.

But Natasha.

She’s got her shell perfected so that when she wants to, everything seems to slide off her, water, duck’s back. She’s adapting pretty well for someone so frequently working alone. Time with the team has revealed a playful side gradually being allowed out - an unexpected bonding with Thor over soap operas, teaching Pepper to spar over Tony’s vociferous objections, long walks with Steve through the city, where apparently they don’t feel the need to talk much unless it’s to choose the right place to break for pizza. She’s comfortable enough around Bruce that she allows brief physical contact, a brush of arms when sitting at one of Fury’s briefing meetings, a pat on the shoulder and a smile after a mission.

He can tell by the finest of lines quirking around her mouth, the barest hint of tension in her shoulders and lower back, how much each contact costs her. And why should it not? He doesn’t have clear memories of what happens when the Other Guy takes over, but some of what happened was caught on security footage. He sees her duck, flee, evade. He sees her sit, very still, afterwards.

****

The Tower is quiet in the aftermath of a mission that started off bad and rapidly went to worse. Thor has left to spend some time with Jane in New Zealand, where they plan to tour the film locations for the Lord of the Rings movies. The man loves a good saga - he’s been buttonholing random SHIELD agents to get their opinions on Book Aragorn versus Movie Aragorn - and Jane has a conference so the timing is perfect. Tony has been dragged off by Pepper to attend to something boring and important to Stark stockholders, and Clint and Steve have disappeared.

“Road trip, probably,” said Natasha when asked. “Sometimes Barton just needs to go driving for a while. Sometimes he likes company. They’ll stay in a few horrible motels, go look at the World’s Biggest Ball of Twine and Carhenge, eat hot dogs. Might not be a bad way for Steve to get a look at the country again. Last time I went driving with him, we ended up at the House on the Rock and Clint really liked it, but I doubt they’ll be gone that long.”

So Bruce retreats to the lab, and Natasha to the media room, intending, she says, to watch something brainless and possibly girly. He tries to lose himself in work, but the tests he’s running are all coming out borked in ways he can’t pinpoint, and it’s frustrating. Not Other Guy frustrating, just ordinary people type frustrating, and that’s enough to send him out of the lab in search of something to distract him. A query to Jarvis locates Natasha not in the media room, but in the library, curled up in an armchair with a book and a glass of wine.

She looks up when he comes in, smiles. “You look like a caricature of a mad scientist,” by which she probably means his hair. He tends to clutch at it when he’s deep in thought. He stands near her and notices the pulse in her wrist elevates, ever so slightly. Her face doesn’t betray it. He nods at the glass of wine.

“Better idea than my plans for the afternoon. The laws of the universe seem to have temporarily suspended themselves and I can’t get anything working right.”

“There’s plenty for two.” She puts the book down (Anne of Green Gables, notes Bruce) and walks to the sideboard, pours him a glass and ferries it back to him.

“I don’t want to interrupt your reading. I can take this elsewhere.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s a comfort read, I’ve read it a hundred times.”

“Cheering on a fellow redhead? I’d have thought you’d be more of a Pippi Longstocking girl.”

Natasha laughs. “I think that’s why I first picked the book up. I found a copy in a used English bookstore in Singapore. And Pippi is great, although I read those too late for her to be a big heroine for me. Anne...let’s just say, the themes resonate.”

Bruce cocks his head, and thinks for a second. It’s been decades since he read the book. “Themes...oh, of course. Orphan girl finds a safe home, friends, family. Unless you meant the dying your hair green part.”

Her smile is wry. “Sometimes the cliches are true. Being a spy...the path to becoming what I am...it usually doesn’t begin in a happy home. So, comfort reading. Also, Anne’s quote about people without red hair not knowing what trouble is.” Either the wine has mellowed her, or she’s deliberately laying herself open a little bit - the guardedness he expected isn’t present and he’s surprised that the conversation is still going on. And it can’t be the wine, because he’s seen her drink a half-bottle of vodka and still send a knife flicking into the middle of the ace on a playing card across the room. (When Tony drinks, he likes to bet on things.)

“I used to read Boy’s Thrilling Adventure kinds of things,” he offers. “It may shock you to know this, but I was a very shy, awkward kid. So I read about pirates and boys with brave, loyal hounds. Knights and racecar drivers, too. I wanted to have adventures, but it was pretty clear that I’d never ride in on a white steed to rescue anybody. So I decided to be the sidekick, the brilliant scientist who gave the hero the tools to do the job. Eventually I’d cultivate a long, crazy white beard and wear little eyeglasses. If I could build like Tony, I’d have dreamed of becoming James Bond’s Q.”

Natasha is listening, her chin cupped in her hand. Her pulse has quieted, and somehow that makes him happy. “I can read themes too, you know,” she says. “The brilliant scientist found a way to be a hero.”

“Oh, yes,” said Bruce, and a tinge of bitterness he can’t hold back stains his voice. “That was clearly a smart move on my part.” He sits on the sofa, far enough away from Natasha so she won’t feel cornered. “If Tony works out time travel, I’m going back to my youth with an armload of...shit, I can’t think of a genre that doesn’t encourage inappropriate heroism. Sherlock Holmes, maybe? More brain, less reliance on brawn. I’ve got all the brawn I need.” He looks down at his hands. “Sometimes it’s not smart to trust that you’ve worked out all the possibilities ahead of time.”

Natasha stands up and he expects her to leave, or change the topic. Instead, she sits down next to him, the closest she’s ever been, and threads her arm through his, so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder. When he moves to jerk away, she spears him with a glare. “Stop it. I’m learning things from this team business, you know. This is something I’ve learned from Thor.”

“Cuddling? Thor taught you to cuddle?” His wave of self-pity has begun to break up and retreat under the warmth of her body against his. He does a bad imitation of Thor. “Tell me about this human pressing of bodies, tiny mortal.”

She grins up at him, an actual grin, amused. “Asgard is apparently a lot more emotionally expressive a culture than you’d think. More than just manly backslapping. Haven’t you been on the receiving end of a Thor hug? Just wait, he’ll get around to you. It’s like being embraced by a giant...I don’t know, golden retriever, maybe. Jane practically disappears when he hugs her. Tony laps it up, Steve is starting to thaw - excuse the pun - and even an old campaigner like Clint likes it more than he lets on. The other night he said Thor was like having an enormous kid brother, and Thor got tears in his eyes, he was so pleased at the thought.

And like I said, I’m learning things too. I’ve never really been part of a big, sprawling, awkward family like this before. I’ve worked solo, sometimes with Clint, very rarely with other agents. Led teams, that kind of thing. But the Avengers? Close quarters with all of you? Totally new in my world. The first time he picked me up off the ground and hugged me I nearly garotted him out of sheer reflex.”

Tentatively, Bruce slides his arm around her waist, and she obliges him, curving herself inside his arm and putting her head on his shoulder. Her hair smells of herbs, clean and sharp.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, “the next road trip should be to Prince Edward Island. Wanna come?”

“I’d be delighted.”

And for a little while, they sit in quiet harmony, slow breaths, letting the minutes tick away unimpeded.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: I did manage a direct followup story (explicit sex): [Sour by the Minute (But You're Sweeter by the Hour)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/447467)
> 
> So I don't know if I've gotten a handle on Natasha, quite, but this is where it all went. Pondering a followup that will move into actual ship territory.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Learning Natasha (Again)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745426) by [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname)




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